Come Back Here
by theSoundofLiterature
Summary: Somewhat AU: Quinn/Rachel lead double secret lives as agents for a global criminal tracking firm. Meanwhile, they're juniors at Mckinley who "hate" each other, and are in Glee Club. Romance evolves secretly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Alright. So this idea for a small one chapter story popped into my head last night. I intended this as a single chapter kind of deal since I have no idea where it would/could go. But it's basically an AU where Quinn/Rachel are leading double lives as agents while in the real world they are juniors at McKinley in Glee Club and they hate each other - I thought it would make for an interesting story. **

**Let me know what you all think. Still debating on whether or not I should continue. Hope someone finds it interesting ha-ha.**

"Come back here!"

Quinn was calling for the shorter agent. Her corset was tightening around her ribs, and she coughed through the smoke.

The shorter girl wasn't listening, and moved farther down the alley, scanning the darkness ominously.

She flinched – she hated working with Berry – that was a lie, if she could be honest, she loved it. The brunette was fiery and exhilarating – and damn hot. But they were on a mission, and she couldn't have Rachel leading them blindly into avoidable traps. She cleared through the smoke with a hand over her nose and mouth as she ran over to Rachel's side against the damp alley wall.

"I told you to come back!"

"And? If you had been paying attention after setting off that unnecessary explosion, you would have noticed that our target exited travelling in this direction."

She hated when Berry was right – she rolled her eyes and pulled out a small device from her bosom. It really was the only place that she could store small items in her current garb. She winced as she struggled to pull the offending device out of her cleavage.

"Curse the person who invented corsets, goddam – I don't understand how women did this on a regular basis."

"Quinn, we're supposed to be in character – if you act out of the ordinary, they will figure us out, get your shit together."

Another thing she hated – when Berry patronized her during a mission. And then she heard scuffling in the far distance – figures could be seen approaching through the hazy night fog and smoke. Rachel latched a clutching hand to Quinn's arm, pulling the two of them farther into the wall and out of direct eyesight.

Through her misted eyes Quinn made out the forms of Monsieur Chevalier – and his henchmen coming closer – his giant fur coat swayed with his grand form, and his walking cane made methodical hits to the cobblestone pavement. His spectacled eye beamed in the moonlight – and his crooked grin mocked their hidden glances.

"Je sais que vous êtes là les filles"

His voice trilled against the cold breeze of the night. Quinn could feel the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end with anticipation. Rachel clenched at her arm tighter as she steeled herself.

"Girls, I know you 'ar here – do not play zilly games with me, zey will not end well darlings."

And then with the slightest touch of movement Rachel was gone – her ample form moving forward stealthily through the smoke – Quinn taking the hint, took the opposite wall, and moved forward.

"That explosion was a nice trick, but it was unnecessary and juvenile – ze pretty blonde's idea I'm zure." He was laughing now as he walked, his cane still making rhythmic motions against the old, cracked pavement.

Quinn could sense Rachel's form in front of her moving against the wall, she clutched at the small pistol attached to her upper thigh, tucked in to her garter. She gripped for it, and as she pulled it out she aimed it above her shoulder with skill and precision – all that agent training wasn't for nothing. She covered Rachel as they moved forward against the mist.

She tripped over a small ledge in her tight heels and wheeled around, careening into the wall with a silent thud, her head ached, and her ears where still ringing from the unnaturally high decibel explosion still flaming in the near distance. But she kept her steady rhythm as she followed after Rachel. And soon they were hidden directly in front of Monsieur Chevalier and his henchman.

Rachel ran forward – Quinn ducked, pistol outstretched, and then there was another explosion and everything went smoky and hazy again – "I shouldn't have set that second bomb" Quinn thought against the cement. She could feel Rachel running up to her side amidst the rubble and smoke.

"We've got to get out of here, they're onto us, we've been compromised."

Quinn nodded back, and fumbled for her receiver. It was also in her bosom. She reached down into her 1850's era visage and groped around sloppily for the small metal button. She found it a few seconds later and exhaled – The two girls pressed it together, hands interlocked and soon there was that unnatural buzzing in their heads, and that weird tingling up their spines…and poof. They had completely vanished.

Monsieur Chevalier ran up to the location where he heard the voices, daggers outstretched in hand ready to fight, only to discover that the mystery girls who had been tracking him for weeks were gone. He looked down the alleyway finding nothing, until he ran a hand along the dirty, rubble strewn cobblestones – his fingers graced over a small book of matches – he read them curiously:

"Weeddles Bar & Grill : We Make it, You Taste it! – Contact Us: (419) 537-0427

520 S. Industrial, Lima, Ohio, USA 45801"

"Je vais vous trouve, vous pouvez compter sur elle"

He drawled dangerously as he proffered the item into his large fur coat pocket. Tapping the cobblestones ominously as he ambled away down the alley – disappearing into the London night.

"Shit, that was a bust."

Quinn's voice was hoarse and unsteady as she awoke. Her head was still in the device and she could feel the wires digging into her scalp as she blinked her eyes open warily. She turned her head and could see Rachel doing much the same thing. The blonde pulled the wires and helmet off of her head before attending to Rachel's. When she sighed she smiled and looked down, seeing her normal garb – skinny jeans, a zip up hoodie and flats – that corset had been murder.

"If it weren't for you and your ridiculous need to blow everything up– I'm sure we may have actually succeeded and come back with something concrete."

Rachel's eyes were harsh as she bore into the blonde before fishing off the rest of her wires and sitting up in the small chair she had been fitted too. Her skin was fresh and dewy, but Quinn could already mark out the small bruises along her lower thighs and forearms – indirect traumatic contusions they called them. She looked down and spotted a few of her own, blossoming alongside her arms, she was sure she'd find a couple along her ribs that night in the shower.

"Hey – let me look at your arms."

Rachel huffed, before crossing her forearms across her sweater-clad chest in mock indignation. Quinn smiled – the brunette never stayed too angry for long. She walked over to her slowly, a small smile spreading over her face, and she reached out and grabbed Rachel's arms tentatively, brushing her fingertips over small button bruises and scrapes. She brought one tan arm up and placed small, lingering kisses to every blemish – her cool lips tasting and nursing away the pain in each one before replacing said arm, and repeating the gesture on the other.

Rachel sighed into her – her body was tired – hell Quinn's was tired. It wasn't every day that you were sent through time and space via subconscious introspective technology – your average junior also wasn't a trained combatant and global agent for a secret firm specializing in the tracking and containment of dangerous criminals and technological weapons. It was exhausting work – even more so, when they had to go to school amid the chaos, feigning indifference and nonchalance while the world raged around them and within them. Every dream was an entrance into a new era – they traveled between the centuries tracking terrorists and vandals, just last week – they apprehended hidden weapons in the tombs at the Valley of the Kings in Egypt.

And for the past year – their target – Monsieur Chevalier, had evaded them. He has disappeared between the eras and every time they catch a lead – he vanishes into thin air. Leaving destruction and loss in his wake at every turn. He is a dangerous man, and he has the knowledge of dangerous weaponry and skill at his hands.

But as Quinn kissed away the pain – the thoughts of their mission evaded the diva's mind as she closed her eyes and shut off the buzzing in her brain – relishing in the here and now. They still had class – they'd done this small reconnaissance mission over their lunch period after a call from their superior agent about the lead. Their mission had bled over and now they had missed both fourth and fifth period – she leaned closer into Quinn as they stood together in Quinn's basement – their headquarters and lab for missions, reconnaissance and technological testing.

"We have to get back to school."

Her voice was faint as she whispered. Quinn looked up from Rachel's arms, her hazel gaze landing on brown irises before she smiled again. She leaned up, kissing the brunette's eyelids and nose softly as she smiled.

"School is for normal people – we are anything but normal."

Rachel smiled in return, enveloping her now increasingly sore arms around Quinn's waist pulling her in closer. The blonde winced at the pain – her bruises were blossoming beneath her hoodie and her muscles began to drag at the exhaustion – missions really took a lot out of them. The brunette looked softly back into Quinn's eyes, worry etched across her face before she placed cooling fingers at the blonde's lower back, moving them with pressure across taught muscles. The blonde exhaled at the feeling, closing her eyes.

"That feels fantastic – I don't know if I'll be able to make it in Wilson's class once we get back – I'm about to pass out."

"Same here – It really pisses me off that he got away." Quinn blushed embarrassingly as she cradled her head into Rachel's warm neck.

"Sor' 'bout da exploshuns"

She mumbled against tan skin. Rachel laughed pulling Quinn's face up from her neck and kissing her quickly against her lips one, two times.

"You're such a pyro."

Quinn smiled devilishly again before returning the kiss – deepening it this time, letting her lips move gingerly – lazily over Rachel's. They were both tired and it showed through their embrace and their touches. They kissed softly and with great care – pouring out all of their love into one another as fingers graced soft skin and bodies tingled.

Their lips parted and Quinn could feel Rachel's hot breath tickling her face as they stood together, foreheads connecting as her eyes fluttered shut in exhaustion. She really didn't feel like going back to McKinley today – another day of feigning indifference to Rachel Berry, and shunning her in the hallways – it hurt to do it, but she knew it was all a front. Ways too keep the normalcy in their wild, unyielding lives – at least they had their secret life, their secret affair would have to stay mum for now.

Rachel let go of Quinn softly and the blonde immediately missed the contact but she knew it had been coming. The two of them silently grabbed their backpacks and school stuff, ushering away their pistols and body weapons into hidden cupboards and wall mounts – they worked quickly to stow away their gear – quickly covering up their shared array of bruises and cuts with salves and lotions before powdering over them with make-up. And once everything was in order, they walked out of the secret entrance to the underground basement, coming into view of Quinn's red BMW 1-series convertible. Rachel smirked as she watched her partner in crime get in, before she made her way over to her silver Hyundai Accent.

"See you in the halls Agent Berry." Quinn called out as she pulled out of her driveway. Saddened to see the brunette go.

"Likewise, Fabray."

Rachel smiled back as the two girls made their way down empty Lima streets back to McKinley – it was an odd feeling – to feel more secure in your secret life, than you did in the real one. It always hurt Rachel's heart to watch her closest friend, confidant, and girlfriend have to close her off every day at school and in Glee Club – the front that they put up around each other was tiring – and the brunette missed their closeness every day as she roamed McKinley hallways and classrooms – missions were almost like reprieves where her sense of normalcy, was oddly attainable.

Quinn reached into her jean pocket as she drove, hoping to find her lucky matches – the certain pack had been bestowed upon her almost eerily, and now although she didn't smoke, she carted them around with her everywhere – they were lucky after all. Her pyrotechnic tendencies were only a misnomer to their presence in her life – And now as she scrambled to find the pack of lighters that wasn't there she began to panic.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I really wasn't expecting much after posting this story – and so it's great to see that you all have enjoyed it **

**And now, since I got a ton of feedback, here is a continuation to the story… I guess I'll have to finish it now. This chapter isn't as great as the first, but I'm excited to see what, if anything interesting comes from this story. Enjoy – let me know what you think!**

"What do you mean you lost your lucky matches?"

Rachel was whispering dreadfully low as they sat together in a small diner – the blonde's penny loafers scuffed against the linoleum as she looked down to swipe an inexistent piece of lint off of her pink poodle skirt.

"I don't know Rachel, _god_, how many times do I have to fucking tell you – they disappeared – I must have lost them the other day while we were in London chasing after Chevalier."

Quinn's voice was acidic as she picked anxiously at her chocolate malt on the table. Her eyes were hard and glassy, and her cheeks were pink with worry – Rachel brushed off the ill mannered acerbity – knowing that it was just her blonde's way of coping. The matches had meant a lot to Quinn, the blonde had had them since they had become agents – and they had been a token of normalcy and luck in their busy intercrossed lives. It was always hard losing a piece of the normal – the token that kept you grounded in this life. She sighed as she brushed her hand over Quinn's, rubbing the pad of her thumb over warm, pale skin.

Quinn exhaled slowly brushing her hair out of her eyes and behind her ears before staring out of the window by their booth - observing the gaggle of 50's era teenage boys and girls socializing out by the parking lot.

"I'm sorry Rach – I just – they were lucky, you know?"

The diva simply smiled as she tossed around her French Fries with a fork – "Yea, Quinn. I know."

"Alright – forget it, I'm fine. We should get back to business. We aren't wearing these stupid clothes, in this pathetic "Pleasantville" town for nothing are we? what's the plan, Brain?"

The brunette raised her eyebrows and glared at her girlfriend sitting across from her – the blonde's own eyebrows were raised mockingly and there was a small smirk twining it's way across her rosy lips. God, Rachel hated it when Quinn called her that.

"That isn't my name _Pinky_, now how do you like it?"

The smile left Quinn's face quickly and she scowled into her ice cream malt. Bringing a spoonful to her mouth quickly – biting back her tongue – because god knows, that wouldn't solve any of their problems.

"Alright, Q – so we have about a window of opportunity that will reveal itself in the next half our right outside of this diner – see that kid in the Greaser get up?" She pointed quickly down the aisle at a table in the far corner where they both spotted a gangly, pimple faced boy no older than them, smoking a Marlboro Red as he picked at his nail beds with a Swiss army knife.

"Isn't he charming."

"Shut up – now listen – our research has him pegged as Lionel Garret, 16 year old white male. He attends Ferris Ridge High School here in po-dunk Virginia. Now listen Quinn, we have evidence that trails him back to a small town Motorcycle Gang outside of Charlotte – this gang engages in female prostitution and drug scandals that'll stretch over a mile long. The only reason they haven't been traced is because of a mysterious benefactor that covers leads and provides them with utilities, instructions, missions, and money – the monthly statements have been tracked back to locked Swiss Bank Accounts…that don't exist."

"Wait a second, how can they not exist – it's a bank account."

Rachel smiled at her genius – this particular lead had been a hard one to pinpoint, and it had taken her a few weeks to solidify her justifications.

"The Swiss account wasn't on record in the year 1958, in fact – the bank in question didn't even exist. But after taking the information and applying it to modern day tracking systems – guess what I found?"

Quinn quirked an eyebrow and smiled devilishly – she knew exactly where this was going.

"Let me guess…the account and the bank are real."

"You got it. The account's been active since 2007 – and although we couldn't access confidential files – what we did learn is that the carrier of said account, is a Mister E.L. Knight. Raise any thoughts?"

"Kinght?...E.L.? …oh you have _got _to be shitting me."

"Yea…Monsieur Chevalier. Chevalier means knight in English translation. The E. and the L. stand for Emile Laurent respectively – his name."

"That sneaky son of a bitch."

"That's exactly what I thought when I figured it out."

"Alright – so what's this window we have set up?"

"The kid is stashing illegal weapons and arms in the back of his car – we trail him." Quinn smiled, this was going to be good.

The girls waited for another half an hour or so, engaging one another in mindless conversation as they watched Lionel, sitting in the back – over the course of 30 minutes they had attracted a certain appreciated yet unwarranted amount of attention from the growing crowd of teenagers arriving after school. Quinn had received no less than eight offers to join boys for a soda or a malt – Rachel got about seven as well. They had rolled their eyes at every offer as they ate and talked, annoyed by the male species completely by the time their meal was over. And then Lionel was leaving. The blonde watching him as he paid for his soda and sat up, pocketing his knife and making his way out to the busy parking lot.

The two agents quickly sat up and followed inconspicuously, with their book bags slung over their shoulders and their arms interlinked they walked out of the diner laughing and smiling - in faux jubilee. Once outside and in the safety of a nearby alleyway, they watched for their mark as he climbed into his beat up Plymouth and rolled down the window – letting his freckled hand hang limply down the side – another cigarette encased by his slender, freckled fingers.

Rachel, realizing they had no real way of tailing him – reached underneath her blue poodle skirt, pulling two of her daggers out from her panty hose, and then she seized Quinn grabbing hers from under her skirt quickly – Quinn yelped at the invasion – glaring hazel eyes into Rachel's head as she watched the brunette toss perfectly pitched knives into the tires of Lionel's old Plymouth from their location behind the alleyway.

"You're sexy when you throw daggers, you know that?"

"Quinn – mind out of the gutter – we're on a mission."

"Whatever."

The blonde grumbled as she checked her small meter. They had about twelve minutes left to apprehend the kid, and make it back in time to safely portal. At the rate that Rachel was calculating everything they wouldn't have sufficient time. And so in a moment of spontaneity Quinn jumped up and ambled over to the blue Plymouth, sidling her way down to the driver side window. She brushed her hand "accidentally" against Lionel's as she smiled up at him. He had turned abruptly to scowl at the unwelcome intrusion before settling his beady eyes on the beauty of the unfamiliar blonde in front of him – instead he gave her a cocky grin before running a free hand through his gelled hair. She had to withhold the reflex to gag.

"Hi…"

"Hey, babe – what you say you hop in my ride, and we ghost."

Quinn really had to contain herself – she mentally rolled her eyes a full one and a quarter turn before planting a bedazzling smile on him. He stuttered against his seat and fell silent.

"I was just wondering if you had a cigarette to spare? I just ran out."

Lionel nodded quickly grabbing his pack out of his back pocket and tossing her one. Quinn blushed as she placed the stick between her parted lips. And then she giggled and flushed harder as she turned her eyes on him again.

"I'm sorry to keep bothering you…but do you have a light?"

He nodded vigorously as he fumbled for his zippo, bringing it up with shaky hands to light the cig quickly for the radiant blonde before him. Quinn faked a drag – she hated cigarettes—before lowering it between her fingers away from her face. In all of this time – Quinn had studied Rachel intently out of the corner of her eye. The brunette had approached the car and scanned the trunk thoroughly, photographing its contents with a hidden camera and taking samples. When the diva was done she closed the trunk quietly and hurried back into the alley – and that was Quinn's cue to make like a tree – she smiled blushingly at the boy again before thanking him and walking back towards the alley behind the diner. Lionel's eyes followed her ass as she retreated – not once noticing the way the blonde's hands had disappeared from site, or how they enclosed around something strapped to her inner thigh – he didn't notice the way the blonde wasn't smoking the cigarette but using it instead as a lighting tool – and most of all, he didn't see the ball of steaming gas that was hurtling itself towards his face and his car until it was too late.

Quinn walked away – not once looking back as she heard his yell of panic. She smirked and walked on – finding Rachel in the shadows. Lionel's faint yelps for help were soon met with the unmistakable booms of something exploding. Pyro- Quinn had made her appearance – she always did at some point.

"Are you crazy Quinn, that was totally unnecessary, you could kill him!"

"Relax Agent Berry – it's just a sleeping gas launcher – all it's gonna do is spark a bit once it's lit before it pops – he's gonna be knocked out for a few hours that's all. Totally harmless."

Rachel still grimaced – before checking her watch –they only had two minutes until their portal closed. Rachel reached for the small receiver device, and Quinn clutched it in her hand in union – and soon the all too common feeling of disorientation and buzzing took ahold of them… and again, they vanished into thin air as Lionel passed out on his seat – snoring idly as the afternoon sun sunk overhead.

"Really Quinn?"

Rachel muttered as she fluttered her eyes open – she was staring at the ceiling of Quinn's basement. And she was completely strapped into the portal machine. She picked through her pockets blindly before clutching onto her small flash drive and sample packets – cocaine, heroine, LCD, PCP. The trunk of that kids car was a disastrous landmine – she unstrapped herself from her chair and assisted the blonde quickly.

"What…it was harmless – plus he was totally checking out my ass."

Rachel mock scowled and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, well than it was much deserved. I'm the only person who can blatantly check you out – but you do have a nice backside Quinn – if I'd be so inclined to admit."

Quinn chuckled deeply before wincing as the straps were released – she could already feel her bruises blossoming across her porcelain skin – and there was the fatigue. She grimaced as she got up before grabbed her book bag – they had a full day of school ahead of them now. Early morning missions between 4 and 7am were the worst. It always meant exhaustion, bruising, lethargy, and bitterness all mixed into a full day of classes at McKinley. She sighed and brushed her eyes.

They silently put away all of their weapons, samples, and evidential photos and scans – the make up was applied abundantly – and two red bulls were pulled from the small fridge in the corner as the two girls made their ways to their cars. The drive to school was silent. And as they pulled into the almost empty lot Quinn smiled – at least they would have a few seconds.

Quinn got out of her convertible and made her way over to Rachel who was exiting her vehicle as well. She placed a quick hand to the brunette's small waist, dragging her back flush against her – placing a quick open-mouthed kiss to warm skin.

Rachel smiled – before batting the blonde away as seconds ticked by in the parking lot.

"Quinn – don't. We could be seen."

The blonde exhaled acidic-ally before releasing Rachel with a little too much force – and when the diva turned around, her girlfriend was making her way towards the large entrance doors with a chip in her shoulder and an ache in her walk – Rachel sighed quietly to herself before rubbing the sleep away from her cloudy eyes; it was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for reading everyone :) I'm glad that you're all loving the story. Here's part 3, I had a great time writing it and i'm excited to see where it will all go from here. I have some awesome ideas ;) lol. Anywho, I wanted to catch up with all of you and share my appreciation to you for both reading and reviewing my stories! It means so much! **

**Also for anyone wondering. I haven't forgotten about "Wild Blueberries," that update is coming ASAP. Just been re-doing it over and over, trying to make it perfect. But don't worry, I haven't abandoned it!**

**xo, G**

Quinn's Cheerio bag dragged against her shoulder as she pushed her way through the throngs of students in the hallway, scowling authoritatively at each wavering eye or unsettling glance. Santana and Brittany flanked her sides as she controlled the temperament – her hazel eyes always watching. And then she spotted Berry, standing by her locker before the bell to first period. The brunette was wearing her McKinley standard: Argyle knee highs, plaid skirt, and complimentary woolen sweater with matching headband and penny loafers – she was oddly hot, and the blonde smirked.

Of course to Santana and Brittany the small smile came off as menacing, or teasing – but as Rachel looked up and the two locked eyes – the moment was not lost. The shorter girl looked away quickly feigning faux nervousness as her eyes told a completely different story.

"Where did you get those clothes Godzilla? The city dump?"

Santana cackled as their trinity walked past – Quinn scowling at Rachel as they made their way through the throng of students – parting their onlookers like the red sea. And then the blonde felt her cell phone buzzing in her pocket, she glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. Her insides did a somersault and her legs turned to jelly on the instant.

"You're so hot when you make that HBIC face – I saw you checking me out Fabray. Tsk Tsk, not at school babe. Eyes off. ; ) - xo, RB"

She quickly deleted the message; Santana had a terrible habit of stealing people's phones and going through their personal messages simply for the fun of said activity. Rachel and Quinn had managed to successfully find a balance between real life and school life rather quickly. They had been agents together for almost two years now, and girlfriends for half of that time. If anything their adjustments were necessary. The blonde texted back slyly as she made her way into class, sitting next to an oblivious Brittany as she clicked away across the keys.

"Rachel – don't you dare tease me – sexually frustrated here, thanks for that. – Q"

"No problem baby, that's what I'm here for – xoxo, RB"

Quinn smacked her forehead before turning off her phone completely. These types of text messages often times lead to things that neither girl should embark on, especially within school grounds. Turning back to the front of the room she scowled at a few students who had been staring at her – pushing them back into their caves of misery, before settling her eyes on the whiteboard and their lesson for the day. Once the teacher began to talk – she drowned them out completely, remembering the day that she had found out. Had it already been two years already? She smiled reminiscently as her mind wandered.

_Two Years Prior:_

_Freshman Year at McKinley -_

_Quinn was lying in her bed asleep when she suddenly felt a jolt against her wrist. The pain was sharp and incessant, making her irritable – she groaned awake scanning her wrist and arm, finding nothing, but not amiss to the fact that her arm was still tingling painfully. She got up and read the clock at her bedside._

_6:23am_

"_Shit"_

_She said aloud as she tried to collapse back into the bed. Hoping to find sleep again before she was scheduled to wake up for school. It didn't come – if anything the pain in her arm became more apparent – escalating to rhythmic throbbing. She ambled her way to her bathroom and took a shower, making sure to rub icy hot over her arm – it smelled like a straight up pharmacy – but she needed some relief. And BenGay and Icy Hot had been ber best friends during football season and Cheerio practice. _

_She got dressed, brushing her teeth, applying her make-up and combing her hair – settling for a soft look. She did keep it classy however – even as a freshman, she had a position to uphold. It wasn't everyday that a freshman took over the head cheerleading spot, rocketing to the top of the pyramid. If anything it was unheard of – but Quinn Fabray wasn't ordinary._

_Her proficiency for academics had always been astounding – and her comprehension of ideas had long surpassed those of her classmates. At the age of seven she was already reading at a grade twelve level – and her math and comprehension assessments were off the chart. She could have easily been considered a genius had her parents not hidden her talents._

"_Quinnie," They would say as they looked down at their gifted daughter. "Don't show off honey – don't make people aware that you're special."_

_She never knew their reasoning – but she had always listened. Dumbing down her talents – playing the secondary role in sports as to make it seem as though she were merely proficient and not exemplary. She passed her classes with A's and B's but she never stood out – she never over-compensated. It was as if this whole side of her life was a secret that she never questioned._

_But Cheerio's was exhilarating, because it offered her a reprieve – one place where she could showcase her talents – one thing where she could truly be herself._

_And so this particular morning, Quinn had made her way to McKinley, and as she walked through the hallways she caught people's eyes – she raised her head further, and she paid them no attention as she made her way to class, ignoring the scalding pain in her arm – it had escalated to her shoulder now. And it took her all of the strength that she possessed not to show it. _

_It wasn't until Cheerio's practice after school that she couldn't possibly bear it any longer. The ibuprofen and cold wraps did nothing, and by the end of the day she was thrumming with pain – she had been on her way to Cheerio's practice when coach spotted her, curled up in the locker room on a bench. Sue Sylvester scowled at her head Cheerio before walking past her._

"_Don't make me regret making you captain Q – get that disgrace of an arm taken care of."_

_Quinn took her cue and left, not bothering to go to the nurse – school nurses were daft anyway. She somehow ended up in one of the girls bathrooms crouched on the floor sitting on top of her book bag, wincing in pain. And then something that shocked her – a small blue light was beeping – she looked everywhere for the noise, and that's when she realized it was coming from her wrist, from beneath her skin. She screamed – and before she could do anything else, a body had forced its way inside the stall, and small hands were wrapping themselves around her mouth, stifling her screams. When she looked up it was to be faced by the worried eyes of Rachel Berry._

"_Calm down Quinn, don't draw attention."_

_Quinn quickly grew angry and was about to lash out before she caught sight of an equally small, bright blinking light coming from somewhere else – she followed it's light and her eyes settled on the equally blinking wrist of Rachel Berry – she jumped backwards, hitting her head against the bathroom stall._

"_What the fuck Berry?" _

_Quinn was panicked, and her entire right side was still throbbing as she looked between the worried eyes of Rachel Berry and their matching light blue beacons._

"_I've had mine since yesterday afternoon – the pain is almost all the way gone now, but the light is still blinking. I noticed you clutching your arm during lunch, and I watched you all day – I followed you here – something drew me to you, and it looks like you have the exact same affliction. It worries me."_

"_Shit, Fuck. What is it?"_

_Quinn couldn't help but wince and pant through the ongoing pain, her face was red from the exertion._

"_I'm not sure."_

And then there was a static shock sending waves of tingling pressure and pain down her wrist and forearm – calling her out of her memories. She could feel the beacon thrumming inside of her skull – her long sleeved jacket hid the unmistakable flashing blue light of her summons from her classmates. Her muscles shot to attention, and her eyes flashed – she had just received a mission – and it hadn't even been a full hour since school started. She raised her hand in the air while she collected her notebook and binder, throwing them haphazardly into her book bag.

"Yes, Ms. Fabray?"

"Sorry for the interruption Mrs. Ritman, but I have a family emergency."

Before the teacher could fully respond the blonde was out the door, pocketing her belongings and making her way speedily to the parking lot – once there she instantly spotted Rachel, the brunette was climbing into her car quickly. Quinn dropped eye contact and did the same. And within minutes both agents were driving out of the McKinley parking lot.

She pulled up to the secret garage of her basement and made her way up the stairs to their mission control room. Rachel was already preparing their head gear, and pocketing weapons. Quinn hit her beacon decal on the wall mount, and instantly her wrist stopped throbbing. They had been summoned to so many missions since that first day, that the pain barely fazed the blonde nowadays. She grabbed her butterfly knives off of the wall, fixing them to her hip – alongside her grenade belt, before seating herself across from Rachel in her destination chair.

"Where to baby girl?" She exhaled quickly. The brunette flicked their switches and secured their time frames.

"St. Petersburg, 1904."

"Oh Joy."

Quinn crooned devilishly before Rachel smiled back. The diva hit their shared distance time manipulator switch and the feeling returned. Both girls closed their eyes to the sensation and within seconds, the vibrating had grown to epic proportions. The machines thrummed against one another, expanding their shields. Quinn grit her teeth, and within moments they had vanished. Gone to a time long forgotten.

When they reemerged it was to find themselves knocked together in a small alcove between frozen shrubbery and arbor leaves. The ground was frozen with snow, and Quinn blinked up at the night sky as flakes found themselves making their landing across her blonde lashes. She caught the brim of her dark hat between silken-gloved fingertips and looked down to study her new attire.

Gloved hands, and lightly heeled feet – her dress flowed beneath her and fell over heavy petticoats – she tugged at her stiff neck collar, and felt at the narrow tie – appreciating the pattern on the fabric of her garments. She smirked and looked down – detangling herself from Rachel as she studied the brunette. She wore similar clothing, and shivered as her covered hands landed on fallen snow.

"Shit it's freezing, what time of the year is it? February?"

Rachel nodded, as she sat up studying their surroundings – she let out a breathy gasp as her brown eyes fell on the marble statues surrounding the central walkway of their location. They were encapsulated by shrubbery and statuettes; the snow marveling in the cold air.

"I've always wanted to come to Russia."

The brunette sighed as she removed her locator from beneath her dress, entering their coordinates into the global time and space tracking system.

"Where are we exactly, I know it's Saint Petersburg – but what part of the city?"

"Looks like we landed directly at the heart of the Summer Gardens – it's one of their oldest, most historical city parks – a cultural landmark if you will."

"How much time do we have?" Quinn asked as she removed her beacon from her own dress – scanning over the same coordinates that Rachel was.

"Two hours."

Quinn nodded and straightened up, she grabbed a hold of her dress, pulling it above her ankles as she made her way through the damp snow – shivering at the cold feel of it against her now bare ankles. Rachel stared after her as she watched the blonde stumble and weave through the fluffy ice.

"Where are you going?" Rachel called out tentatively in the darkness of the grand park.

"I'm going on a mission to find Chevalier and get my lucky matches back, what does it look like idiot?"

And that's when Rachel huffed indignantly as she pulled her very own dress up and over her ankles, following Quinn's indented footprints in the snow as they made their way through the Gardens, out into the city square before them.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4:

"It's cold."

Rachel was trembling, buried knee deep in a hidden snow bank. Her hosiery and shoes had been soaked through and she huffed through icy fingertips, staring at her visible breath against the moonlight. She had followed the blonde out of the gardens, her temper escalating at Quinn's blatant disregard for prudent scheduling and order. But as they walked – the smell of smoke was almost too thick in the air to overlook. And so here they were now, crouching behind a large brick building – staring at the flaming building a little over three hundred feet in the distance. It was rather late in the night, and yet cries could still be heard emanating from the depths of the smoke and the flames. The sign above their heads read:

**Железные****дороги****Путилова**** (****завод****) **

**PUTILOV RAILWAYS (PLANT) **

They had been sitting there waiting for the better half of thirty minutes, watching in silence as men ran screaming from the riots, and as armed guards accosted civilians and workers by way of brute force – the smoke encapsulating them all in a blinding haze as sirens wafted in the background. Rachel had followed Quinn here out of curiosity, but now as she watched the riot before her she couldn't shake the feeling that here isn't where they would find what they had set to St. Petersburg to look for.

"Q?"

Rachel looked to her right to find her partner, in every sense of the word crouched next to her with watering eyes, her hands clasped tightly around a zippo. Her thumb flicking the gas flame on and off repeatedly as she absently toyed with it between her fingers; the blonde's hands were shaking slightly and Rachel couldn't help but kneel down to her, enveloping her cheeks with cold, stiff hands.

"Q, look at me."

When the blonde had gazed up, her hazel eyes were lost in a daze, and Rachel swore as she watched the tears continue to fall without notice or care. She had lost her again. This was a roadblock. Quinn hadn't had an episode in months, and Rachel was beginning to think they had subsided, but in recent months, they had been coming back, and at the most inopportune times. Her heart clenched, as Quinn lost herself to her memories. She wouldn't come back to her, at least not tonight.

The small zippo continued to twirl around the blonde's deft fingers. And Rachel sighed, trying to hold back her own pain because although Quinn got lost in them, Rachel wasn't immune to the memories either. They hurt just as bad as the blonde's own, because she had to be strong for the both of them – Rachel's hands were beginning to throb from the cold, and she was beginning to panic because Quinn wasn't responding, she slapped her cheeks softly, and Quinn murmured a few remembered words, but there was still no change in her eyes. A few guards where approaching from the north, and Rachel could heart their leather boots approaching their line of hiding. They would be spotted if they didn't move soon – they couldn't be swept up in the rioting. They had to get out of here. She slapped Quinn again, with much more force this time – her fingertips burning from the impact on cold skin.

"Quinn. Babe, wake up!"

The blonde turned her head to Rachel's and blinked once. And Rachel watched as Quinn's watery gaze fell to the zippo still working between her hands. She clicked the flame back on and watched it burn around the falling snow.

"Rachel? …why couldn't I save them?"

The brunette watched as Quinn's eyes rose up again to meet her own, and she could have broken down right there because this was something that they couldn't talk about because it was in the past, it was a long time ago – and they both had changed. They needed the change. But the truth bore down heavily on their shared hearts and so Rachel kissed it away, locking onto Quinn's cold lips softly – hoping it would release her. At first there was no response from the blonde, but as the seconds passed she felt the blonde stir against her, and begin to meet her pace. And just as Quinn began to come back, the once faraway footfalls approached from behind a burning wall, with revolvers and batons pointed.

Rachel pulled away abruptly – relived beyond comprehension to find clear hazel eyes looking back up at her. She could have cried to have Quinn back, for the moment at least. And just before their assailants could capture their forms, the blonde clicked her lighter in record speed, turning on her heels with Rachel in hand before freeing an M7 cylindrical grenade from her hidden waistband beneath her waistcoat. She covered her nose and eyes with her free arm and dragged Rachel away in a fit of frenzy as she threw the device behind them in the faces of the approaching riflemen. She didn't have time to watch the destruction, but just as she clicked their activators she could feel the burning of the chemicals coating her nostrils and throat in the night – and just as the coughing fits began she felt the all to customary pull from her navel and with a firm grip on the brunette – they had vanished into the night school – leaving St. Petersburg far, far behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5 –

"Quinn what in the name of Liza Minelli was that?– we could have died back there. We came to Russia to find a lead on Chevalier, and you dragged us to a riot Quinn. A riot! What were you thinking? And then you just, you just, you lost it – and I didn't know what to do. You weren't comprehending anything. You just kept playing with that stupid –"

Rachel was venting. That was all she could do. That mission was a faliure, a total failure. She was sure now that even if Chevalier had passed through St. Petersburg at all, he would most definitely get wind of their close trail.

She slumped in her chair at the bottom of Quinn's basement and groaned into her hands. She could already feel the bruises on her ribs blossoming, and her eyes were droopy with the need for sleep. Quinn had yet to say anything – which was unusual within itself. The blonde just sat against the wall and continued to play with her lighter.

"And you have nothing to say."

Rachel sighed into her hands again as she rubbed against her grainy eyelids – this really was utterly unbecoming – the diva needed her sleep, but the whole thing was ruining her routine. She pursed her lips and got up quickly, straightening her skirt and knee high socks as she did so before grabbing her bookbag and heading out the door. They still had seventh period left and Glee Club, and she would be damned if Quinn ruined that too. There was a loud slam of the hidden exit door, and Quinn thudded her head back against the wall as she heard Rachel's Hyundai accelerate off into the distance.

"Goddamn it."

Quinn exhaled. What was there left for her to say? That she fucked up? Or that she realized it was her fault that Russia was a wasted trip. Every single one of their missions was sponsored by government agencies and officials - they cost hundreds of thousands of dollars if not millions to execute. And so to have failed – it meant way more than a berate-ment from Rachel, it meant that their superiors would be in contact sometime today – and that was never a good sign.

She sighed again. Grimacing at the lighter before grasping it in a tight fist and pressing down on the button, letting some of the lighter fluid – a few drops – slide down into her clenched palm before striking the reel. She watched silently, a bored expression on her face as the few drops of fluid caught on fire as she opened her palm – staring blankly at the second long fireball clenched within her fingertips.

She repeated the motion a few more times as her mind wandered. She loved her little zippo – but there was something about still not having her matches that irked her. And the matches had an interesting story of their own. She closed her eyes and let the memory overtake her.

_Two years prior:_

_Freshman year –_

"_You can't be serious."_

_It had been two weeks since Quinn's beacon had showed up that morning, and ever since she was found by Rachel Berry – her life had taken a turn for the bizarre. Her parents had left her abruptly – the house packed up, save for her belongings, ad before she had any time to protest her father was pulling her aside and wiping at her watery face._

"_Quinn – it's time for us to go now. We've done all that we could, we've protected you – and you might argue against that, but know this. Every thing that we did, good or bad in the long run, was out of protection and love. You may not understand now – but you will. And so wish us a happy indefinable trip to the pacific islands, and remember our Aliases."_

_Quinn nodded, she was so goddamn confused, but she nodded anyway. Watching as her parents jumped into a black sedan and were sped off into the horizon. She walked back into her house and sighed sadly at the emptiness. A few hours later, she got a text from Rachel Berry – she rolled her eyes but opened it nonetheless, jumping forward at the admission on the small screen._

**It hurts doesn't it? Having to watch them go? - **R****

**How do you know they left? – Quinn**

**Because mine were just escorted out of my house too Quinn, they left in black Government Issue car. Where else would they be going? We have those signal light things for a reason. - **R****

**I can't with this right now. – Quinn**

**Quinn - please don't take this the wrong way at all, but seeing as both of our families have been mysteriously carted away…I'm lonely, and kind of scared, and I'm sure you must be too, and so I was wondering if I could stay with you over there? It's just too quiet in my house. - **R****

_Quinn read the text and her eyes bugged out of her sockets. What was this fuckery? First she has a light blinking, coming from underneath her SKIN. And then her parents are removed fro her house, and now the only confidant she has is Rachel Freaking Berry. Who now wants to spend the night in HER house. What was this world coming to? She couldn't say no outright because she needed answers just as much as Rachel did, and so as she shook her head, she typed a non emotional "_**I guess – Quinn**_" into her keyboard and hit send. They would be in for a long night._

_Coincidentally that first night of independence ended with the two of them getting drunk off of her mothers left over Bartles & James wine coolers. They ended up just outside of the Lima District Library, they had walked there while inebriated – all well past Rachel Berry's better judgment – but perhaps it was their own mini twist of fate. Because as they sat on a park bench they came across a little boy, his clothes were ratty and he looked to only be about five years old. But they watched him scavenge through a nearby trashcan. His equally homeless older sister and/or mother not far behind; The night had ended with the two of them befriending the tiny homeless family, giving them spare change and dollar bills for food. And in that instant, the little boy, whom they would come to know as Daniel, reciprocated his thanks, and handed Quinn an old, ratty book of matches. They were dirty and half of the matches were missing – but she couldn't help but smile down at the matches from Weeddles Bar and Grill and smile._

Quinn groaned as she got up off of the basement floor – dwelling on the past wouldn't do. She collected her zippo and book bag, and hit the lights. As she walked out to the garage and hopped into her 1 series she couldn't help but feel anxious for Glee. Her episodes had grown harder to control in the last few weeks – she had been doing a good job of hiding it from Rachel, but the brunette still worried. For Quinn – letting go was just easier than hurting, and for her that was okay. And so she sighed again as she drove off toward McKinley – hoping to anchor her heart before stepping into Glee. She would need all of the energy she could muster in order to feign uninterested interest while in the back row. It was exhausting.


	6. Chapter 6

Come Back Here

Part 6 –

"Nice of you to finally join us Q."

Santana was sneering from the back row, as Quinn made her untimely arrival to Glee rehearsal. The blonde had dark rings under her eyes, and she held her fingers curled tightly into her sweater sleeves as she ambled up to the back row sluggishly to sit next to Brittany.

"Damn, you look like shit."

Quinn scowled. Her arms hurt, and her eyes were still burning from the smoke of the raid – it would take her a while to fully feel like herself again. She sighed and attempted to wipe the graininess out of her pupils to no avail.

"Thanks for your much appreciated concern…except not."

Santana scowled as she watched the blonde bury her head in her lap – choosing to drop the topic just this once. Sure, she hated it when Quinn got snarky – but the blonde just looked so _exhausted_, it almost made her tired just looking at her. She watched the blonde's hand absentmindedly, her fingers twirling a lighter absentmindedly through her knuckles.

And before she could concentrate on Brittany for a change, she turned to see the midget enter the choir room – damn, if Quinn looked exhausted, the hobbit looked like a fucking zombie – and she had a run in her knee highs – very un-like Rachel Berry. The Latina watched as the troll scanned the room, settling her eyes on Quinn – She turned to Quinn and saw the blonde grimace and scowl in return; daring the brunette to keep staring.

Santana smirked – well at least that animosity was in order – there was still some normalcy there. The midget and Fabray would always be polar opposites – and for some reason, that gave the Latina an odd satisfaction.

Quinn stared at Rachel's back silently – making sure to glance in between looks, sneaking around the over-attentive Santana. It was a game of cat and mouse for her and Rachel whenever they went anywhere in public. It was like with every sneer, and every bad name she was secretly affirming their relationship. They had left headquarters in sour moods – the both of them not talking to the other. But their fights never lasted long, and Quinn was _tired_. She just needed her girlfriend, and she felt suffocated within the walls of William McKinley. Apparently Rachel felt the same, because before long she was getting a text message from her – no one really noticed in Glee Club, Schuester was rambling, and half of their teammates were asleep.

"I'm sorry babe…I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you. – xo"

Recently Quinn had changed the brunette's name and coding in her cell phone. After thinking about it, it wouldn't do for her phone to get into the wrong hands, and all of Rachel's messages there for the world to see. She already had heavy encryption software installed that she had programmed herself. And along with that, now – whenever Rachel called or texted, the name rang up as Raymond Lyme.

"Hey Rae…s'okay. I'm not mad at you, I'm just tired... Can we sneak out of here early?""

Thanks to Quinn, Rachel's phone too had an alternate ego and routing system for Quinn's calls and texts, and it still made her chuckle that the blonde had changed her name on Rachel's phone to Quentin Fyre. How adorably obnoxious of her pyro – to add a little bit of her own moniker to her name.

"God yes…I thought you'd never ask Mr. Fyre. – xo "

Quinn rolled her eyes and smiled. Closing her phone and stowing it in her pocket – smiling at the small lighter still toying between her fingers – she missed the fact that Santana had been peering over her shoulder the entire time, and the way that the Latina followed the blonde's exit with narrowed eyes. Rachel left ten minutes later – but Santana hadn't really cared about the hobbit. A mistake she would soon learn later to rectify.

They made their way to Quinn's house in their separate cars. And when they found themselves parking in the large garage. Quinn smiled at their solitude. She looked out across the underground garage at all of their cars and smiled, resting her palm softly against her Ducati Diavel AMG. It was her favorite toy by far – it was too bad Rachel never let her drive it – citing "maniacs on the road."

"You would stop to marvel at your darling bike…I think you love that thing more than me."

Quinn smiled and turned around slowly – her back and legs still stiff. Rachel was walking up and cradling herself in her warm arms. And the brunette sighed at the embrace.

"I think so too…think I could trade you in for another?"

Rachel slapped Quinn's arm and huffed before kissing her softly against her sweater, right were her clavicle would be. Quinn smiled and pulled the smaller agent closer into her as she walked them backwards towards the door leading to the lab. Rachel laughed as they ambled through the doors awkwardly in an embrace. When they finally reached the lab – Rachel broke apart and discarded her book bag, muttering about taking a bubble bath because her bruises were killing her. Quinn sighed and followed – knowing it was an open invitation. And so, fifteen minutes later found the two of them in the large master bathroom upstairs. Rachel tucked tightly into Quinn, while the blonde leant warmly against the lip of the large jet streamed bubble bath.

If any of their friends knew that the two of them lived like this, it would cause an uproar no doubt. In all honesty, once their parents had been sent away and memory erased – Rachel and Quinn had no choice but to make this place their home. The Fabray Mansion becoming a Government fortress overnight. They started – with split rooms, Quinn keeping her old childhood one, Rachel taking a guest room. But as time passed, and a relationship blossomed – both girls claimed the empty master bedroom as their own. They hadn't slept apart in almost fourteen months – they probably never would.

The bubble bath had become somewhat of their brainstorm room. They would get in together and let the bath salts ease their aching joints, bruises and cuts – huddled together in the steaming water – back to front – sudsy – and heatedly discussing battle strategy and future plans of action. If you found them like this, you would probably laugh at the incredulity. Because what seventeen year olds do you know that live in such a manner?

"Quinn..."

The blonde was almost asleep against the porcelain tub, her head resting against Rachel's shoulder blades.

"Hmm…"

"Do you want to talk about what happened today in St. Petersburg?"

Quinn had been expecting this talk, but it didn't mean that she wanted to have it. She groaned audibly and exhaled against Rachel's wet skin.

"Not really Rach…"

"You blacked out on me again Quinn. If this keeps happening…"

"I know, I know… you don't have to tell me. I know."

"Well – if you want we can arrange meetings with our program supervisor, and set up PTSD sessions for you so th—"

"…I don't have post-traumatic stress disorder Rachel…"

"Quinn…it's getting worse. I just want you to get better. I was there too you know, I saw it, I lived it. You can talk to me about it."

"It's been two years. I'm fine. Can we drop it now?"

"But Quinn –"

"_Please_, Rachel. Please, drop it."

Rachel sighed as she grabbed Quinn's arms at her sides and pulled them up and around her waist in the water before leaning back into the blonde's lap. Resting her head limply against Quinn's chest and collarbone. The blonde took the moment of silence to lean down and place a fleeting kiss to brown hair before whisper – mumbling into soft rivulets.

"Can we talk 'bout Chevalier now?"

"Yea…so what's our next course of action?"

"You ask me? You're the brain remember Anamaniac?"

"I hate it when you call me that Quinn. And the Anamaniacs was a deplorable show. Honestly a superhero named Freakazoid? Terrible."

"…take that back! I will not have such slanderous and blasphemous statements recounted in my presence. That show deserved an Oscar."

"Emmy…"

"What?"

"Television awards are Emmy's…Motion Picture awards are Oscars. You meant 'that show deserved an _Emmy_.'"

"Whatever…you're getting off topic Brain – back to Chevalier."

Rachel rolled her eyes and huffed before changing the course of her thoughts. Settling on serious matters.

"I haven't scanned the maps yet – I was going to do that tonight after I finish Ms. Frazier's APUSH paper. But I have an idea of where he might be going next. You know how he's been stealing valuable artifacts throughout history? And then trafficking said funds through illegal black market deals? Finally – most of his money is sent to "invisible" third party banks that are associated with the primary Swiss bank that we discovered earlier."

Quinn nodded, listening to her girlfriend intently.

"Well…I've been mapping out his progress. First he started in early Mesopotamia, stealing the treasures of King Hammurabi – he moved then to The Valley of the Kings – ravaging the ancient tombs of Upper Egypt. He moved to Japan next, then Spain, Mexico-City, France, Russia…the list goes on and on, and he is continually stealing valuable artifacts. I have no idea what he needs it all for though, and it's really bothering me…"

"Well, do you have any idea of where he might go next?"

"Yes…Ancient Greece – specifically Mycenae to visit King Agamemnon. Legend has it that he is the brother – in – law of Helen of Troy. Of course the Trojan War was a mythological recount of possible factual events. But nevertheless – he'll be searching for gold."

"That guy is such a jackass…" Quinn interrupts. Rachel nods in agreement.

"And he still has my matches."

"Quinn…"

The blonde pursed her lips, already not enjoying the direction this conversation is bound to take.

"You're starting to prune babe."

And then Quinn was sitting up and walking out of the large tub, helping Rachel inch out with her. She wrapped their bodies in towels and when they left the bathroom to change, she did so quickly and with very little words before heading downstairs to their lab. Rachel didn't follow.

They had both gone to sleep close to eleven o'clock, but by two in the morning Rachel groaned as her wrist throbbed painfully – the telltale flashing blue light of a summons illuminating her face in the darkness. She could see Quinn's beacon flashing from the blonde's arm positioned at Rachel's hip – and in seconds she could hear the mutterings of swear words coming from behind her. They dressed quickly and Quinn tossed Rachel an apple before they headed to their lab.

"Let's see if your predictions last night were right babe."

Quinn smiled. Rachel rolled her eyes and set up their chairs. Yawning as they both strapped in. And once connected and engaged the coordinates for their destination flashed in the monitor and Rachel smirked – she was never wrong."

"Athens it is."

Rachel crooned. And Quinn sneered – Rachel was _always_ right.

"I hate that you're never wrong babe."

"Shut up Quinn, you love it."

And now the blonde laughed tiredly as she finished pressing her beacon settings. And once everything was in order, and weapons were correctly in place – they were off. Succumbing to that very familiar feeling of being suctioned into a very small time warped compressor. And in seconds, _poof_ they were gone.

"I'll never get used to that…"

Quinn croaked as she looked down at her attire. Looking down, she's adorned in a woolen Chiton or Inner Tunic, in shades of greens and brown. Wearing simple straped leather sandals, and when she looked up it was to see Rachel leering at her in a way that she was very much accustomed too.

It is in this instant that she observes Agent Berry. In a very similar garb, yet her tunic has shades of yellow and blue, and one half of her Inner Tunic, under her right arm is open down the side – held together simply by pins – it's almost like a very long slit in a skirt – except you can see the entire profile of Rachel's long sleek legs, and Quinn grins. Because once a breeze passes by, she can feel it hitting her skin coolly along a large slit under her right arm – and now she knows exactly why Rachel's leering, because she's leering too goddammit.

"You look hot."

"As do you."

And then a horse carriage passes by them in a flurry, and both girls are brought to the present. Scanning the center for any sign of Chevalier. They see children, men and women congregating in the square, and Quinn grimaces at a goat that keeps following her and trying to nip at her sandals.

"Goddamn goat!" Quinn squeaks as the goat licks her ankle – it's followed them for close to five minutes now. Rachel laughs, and squints her eyes to Quinn in confusion,

"We're you eating anything before we got here?"

"What? _…Ow!..._no, I didn't eat anything, I put on lotion though."

"Which lotion?"

"The Apricot Honey kind you got me a few months ago…"

And then Rachel bursts out laughing as Quinn finally realizes why the goat is following her. The blonde's cheeks redden and she huffs – turning around to stare daggers at the goat as it looks at her absently in return, before licking her ankles again.

"_Hippos!"_

Quinn and Rachel look up to find an older graying man, marching up to them to grab a hold of the wayward goat, kicking it lightly against the feet. The goat, named "Hippos" apparently doesn't budge immediately and the man grows impatient, wrapping a hand around the goat's middle, picking it up and carrying it off, as it brays.

"_Stamata to anadema, Hippos!" _

_**Stop fidgeting, Hippos!**_

Rachel frowns – not at all happy with the way that the old man was handling the goat, and just before she's about to follow him to relay some of her animal rights ideas on him in broken Greek, Quinn takes her by the arm and spins her around.

"We have a mission remember…Chevalier. I think the goat will be fine."

Rachel huffs again before nodding quickly, tapping her beacon decal hidden beneath her tunic for GPS coordinates – sending them on their mission to get that much closer to Chevalier.

"Looks like we're off."

"Wonderful."


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7-

The city of Athens circa 480 B.C. is not quite as large as its own future proclaims. The main acropolis at the central hilltop is adorned with a single Doric Temple in honor of the Goddess Athena – the namesake of Athens, Greece herself. The agents find themselves in a time long before the creation of the Parthenon or the extended Acropolis and city walls – Athens is a trade route, yes – but in elements of size, it has yet to create the indelible marks that its future guarantees. Quinn and Rachel find themselves hidden behind a shallow ravine that leads down to the main fishing bank. Hoping now, that they aren't too late.

Quinn swallows thickly and pales when she notices a set of ships arriving off of the horizon. Their make and build are unfamiliar in comparison to the Greek ships presently at the small dock – and the blonde instantly realizes that this is not good. This isn't good at all. The fleet is grand, with hundreds of men pulling straining oars through rough waters. Quinn watches as the Athenians at the dock retreat hastily in fear as the ships make their arrival. Large ornate wooden panels and red sails adorn the boughs – beckoning towards her Goddess Athena in a malicious salute.

"The Persians..."

Rachel mutters quietly under her breath, her eyes wide with understanding. Her lips are parted and her fingers are fidgeting restlessly against the hem of her tunic. If anybody knows Rachel Berry it's Quinn – and this is Rachel's '_I didn't anticipate this happening, I don't have a plan' _face – and now, the blonde is on edge, a little bit more adrenaline than she'd like pumping through her warm veins.

"Rachel, we need a plan – the situation has changed."

Rachel nods, grabbing for her GPS coordinate device, tracking their current whereabouts and sending a link to headquarters. It wouldn't do to have two of their best agents missing in action while stuck in such a far away time period. The farther the technology sent them in the past, the more energy it required to bring them back – and when/if something were to wrong, it would be almost unthinkable.

As Rachel scrambles with intra-time/space communications with headquarters, Quinn tracks the progress of the approaching Persian ships. They are almost at docking position now – she grabs a pair of retractable binoculars from her harness against her hip underneath her tunic, and scans the amplified horizon. The main ship – the primary one, holding the Persian fleet commander, is set in the lead, the masts large, and the oars tremulous against the water. Quinn focuses on the main deck, and sees him – in large colorful robes, and a prominent wiry beard – his left eye is covered with a small cloth and string – a scar stretching along the diagonal expanse of his olive toned weathered face.

And just as she's about to relay this information to the brunette agent beside her, she catches a swift motion in her periphery through the binoculars – and she gasps when she sees just _who_ it is ambling up the deck to rest behind the Persian commander – his cane is dark mahogany with an eagle crest. And his glass bespectacles glint against the sun's reflection – he looks positively maniacal. His coat – large and silken, like a robe. A thin scar edging the corner of his thin mouth. Monsieur Emile Laurent Chevalier, has beat them here it seems – and he's dealing with the Persians. This is _so_, not good.

"Oh, _fuck me_."

"Quinn—this really isn't the time. Where's your professionalism? I mean granted, you do look rather appetizing in that tunic – but can't you keep it in your pants for five min- ?"

"Rachel, shut up!"

"Well, someone's in a foul mood for some reason—"

"Get down.."

"Quinn, what— ?"

"I said, _get the fuck down_!"

And right as Rachel is about to raise her voice in protest of her girlfriend's less than acceptable tone of voice, a slender pale hand is wrapping around her face to cover her mouth and stifle her rant as she's pulled down further into the small ravine out of eyeshot. She opens her angry eyes at the warm blonde resting on top of her – not caring in the slightest that she could be suffocating her. Rachel is about to lick Quinn's warm hand to get her off of her, because Quinn _hates_ when she does that. But then she finally just _looks__**, **_and the blonde is panting. Her brow furrowed and a small bead of sweat travelling down from the nape of her neck. Her eyes are squinted and concentrated on the approaching fleet, and her demeanor is serious. Too serious for whatever this is to be a joke.

Quinn finally looks down at the anxious face of her fellow agent and swallows thickly, removing her hand and raising a thin finger to her own lips in a show of silence. Rachel nods and looks up from beneath the blonde – her face blanching as she watches the first Persian ship docking – her breath hitching when she finally sees the man exiting the boat – his cane clacking against the rocks on the shore ominously.

Oh, this was not good.

"_Shit_, why didn't you say Chevalier was here! _Shit shit shit_"

Rachel whisper rants into the empty air between them. Quinn moves to cover her mouth again, shushing her silently in the process. She leans up again watching for movement. She notices the Persian commander walking off in the direction of the Athens square, Chevalier travelling with him in step – side by side – Quinn waits a breath, finally confident that the two men are out of earshot before she lets go of Rachel.

"Quinn – he's getting away! – We can't let him get away, this –"

"Rachel, be quiet…I have a plan."

"_You _have a plan_…"_

And Quinn has the gall to smirk at her girlfriend cheekily before running off towards the boats under shadow of the ravine, Rachel hot on her heels. And dammit, she knows she's doing something right because Rachel's got that '_come hither, you just turned me on so much right now_' look on her face – and if anything it just adds to their shared adrenaline as they finally reach the boats.

There are at least 200 oars men resting at the flanks, and Quinn smiles because this is going to be too easy. She hurries into the water, on the side by the rocks so as not to be seen. She pauses once she reaches the edge of the wooden ship, her tunic wrapping around her thighs and calves as she treads water, and then she's climbing up towards the flank, on the shadowed side, managing to get one leg over and then another until she's finally on the main deck.

She's in the rear, still having yet to be seen. And before a single move can be made, she's throwing a smoke hand grenade into the back quarters, startling the crew into madness and heat. The oars men ripple into chaos as she combat crawls her way to the lower deck crawl space – twisting and turning amidst the smoke and scattering of Persian feet. She makes it to the crawl space and descends the ladder without detection. Closing the hatch soundly behind her.

When she opens her hazel eyes, they settle on wide Persian tapestries garnering the wooden walls, and one ornate table center room. Atop it sits a battle strategy for the occupation of Greece, as executed by Xerxes the first – however above this parchment rests a secret one – one that Quinn is sure no other living person should be seeing at all. The letters are calligraphic in style, and the stationary crisp and modern. The cuneiform ink still fresh against the contract – a contract for Persian blood money it seems – a contract that is secretly funding the entire Persian conquest of Ancient Greece – signed by Xerxes himself and presided over by none other than Emile Laurent Chevalier.

The blonde agent snatches the paper before flicking her Zippo and watching the war expansion strategies soar up in flames. The smoke is thick, and Quinn coughs silently as she tucks the fresh contract into the inner waistband of her tunic. She lights a small explosive and pins it to a wooden rod, watching as it explodes the far wall into shards – leaving a gaping whole out to sea. She takes this route, sure to keep her waist as high above water as she can as she crawls her way back to shore. The men on the boat running like chickens with their heads cut off as their ship sinks soundly into the Mediterranean.

And there Rachel is, hidden behind a sand bank, radio-ing in to headquarters about their recent developments. Her Glock 22 .40 Caliber held sternly in her firm hands from the shadows. Quinn hurries over, careful to stay low as not to be seen. They hide behind a large column of sand and rocks and quickly file away the found cargo – scanning it quickly onto satellite manual compatibility systems for future use and reference. There are hundreds of people hurrying to the site – attempting to save the sinking ship. If they don't move soon – they will most definitely be found.

"Quinn, that was a beautifully executed plan, but honey we have to get out of here…_now_."

"Rach – we still have 32 minutes left on our clocks – we can still find hi—"

"We don't have time, we have to go."

Quinn grumbles as she complies, realizing now that Rachel's probably right, she coughs lightly and brushes a smudge away from her cheek – effectively smearing it further as she waits as smoke starts to fill the surrounding air. And suddenly, Rachel is running out from behind the rocks for a few covert picture photos for evidential use once we get back to headquarters – and Quinn just knows that something is off. But before she can call Rachel back to their enclosure, a tall thin man with spectacles and a mahogany eagle tipped cane is walking up behind her, and latching a cold hand onto her unseeing shoulder.

The blonde watches her partner flinch from the touch – her body tensing from all of their combat training, her arms are poised and she is quick to move, but Chevalier is quicker, and he suddenly has Rachel in a hold by the neck – his body rigid and outstretched behind her – his waist leveled away from her waiting knees, legs, and elbows. Her face is red from the exertion and her eyes are wide as he sneers into her hair.

"You zought I wouldn't find you two…hmm? How naïve ze young are."

He was laughing now as he held Rachel by the neck and hair. His eyes cold, and his gaze now settling on the large rock that Quinn was surely crouched behind.

"And where iz ze pretty blonde? Ze reckless one who caused zis beautiful scar on my face – I'd like to find her and repay ze favor."

"arrêter de se cacher, sortir magnifiques"

And Quinn can suddenly hear Rachel sputtering from her grasp within his arms, and she's livid. She's so mad that he has her – that they weren't as careful as need be. And when his laugh rings out through the smoke once more her gaze focuses and a calm settles over her being – the adrenaline in her veins fueling the growing fire – the butterfly knives at her thigh are cold and heavy in her hands, and she was never as precise as Rachel at these types of things – explosives always having been her weapon of choice. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and she feels the tendons in her arm flex with power as she launches a cool knife at Chevalier's thin leg.

Her aim doesn't miss, and the thin man crouches to the ground in screaming agony as his thigh bleeds from the deep slashing wound – and Rachel is free, and she's about to engage in further combat with the fallen man until she sees the throngs of the Persian fleet advancing from the shore – their commander in the lead, his eyes red with fury – his documents gone, and his ship halfway under sea. And she runs. Abandoning the effort – and saving it for a later day.

Quinn finds her, and clings to her tightly – no air between their bodies as Rachel finds and engages their return beacon. Her face warm against the blonde's neck as a sudden pull ignites from within their bellies – signaling a disappearance that is just on the horizon.


End file.
